


put it in the oven

by ClassyFangirl



Series: Belly Achin' [5]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/pseuds/ClassyFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann tries to bake for Newton. Tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put it in the oven

While Hermann was still not the world’s finest chef, he liked to believe that his cooking skills had improved significantly since he first began his quest to keep Newton adequately fed. The Shatterdome did not have a plethora of ingredients, and even fewer fresh ones, but he managed quite well. Cooking was a lot like mathematics, in the end. _Pasta + water + heat + tomato + garlic = dinner._ Simple.

Hermann could, with varying degrees of quality, successfully make omelets, vegetable soup, macaroni and cheese (which he found dreadful but Newton adored), and enough others with whatever ingredients he could find. Newt was an excellent man to cook for- he never complained about burnt or undercooked food, just moaned and praised Hermann’s abilities. “Dude, I have lived off campus dining hall food and ramen since I was _twelve_ ,” he said once. “This is like, five star restaurant kinda stuff to me.”

There was one particular area that Hermann had yet to broach- baking. He had never, not once, baked anything. He’d never had reason to, really, until he saw how Newt reacted to a chocolate chip cookie from the mess hall. “ _God,_ ” he sighed. “Oh, _man,_ this is great- fresh baked, holy shit, how’d they even _get_ all the stuff for this? God, I missed this- Hermann, Hermann, it’s _still warm_.”

He’d eaten it slowly, savoring it, his eyelids fluttering shut as he took in each bite, and Hermann knew he had to do _something_ to see that reaction from him again.

After months of bargaining, trading, and, on one occasion, threatening, he managed to procure a box of brownie mix and the necessary ingredients. He left his room late at night to use the kitchen in total solitude. Baking couldn’t possibly be hard, he’d decided. If he could cook, he could bake- it was the same thing, really, but in an oven. Simple.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit- he easily converted it to Celsius in his head, ridiculous American packaging, still not using the metric system -and pour the dry mix into the bowl. Very easy.

Despite his best efforts, some of the mix spilled over the edge of the bowl and onto the counter. Unfortunate, but manageable. He’d clean it when he finished, while the finished product was in the oven. Next, water, vegetable oil, and two eggs. There wasn’t quite enough vegetable oil and the eggs were beginning to look suspect, but he didn’t have a great many options, and besides, surely Newt would be too overwhelmed by the chocolate to notice. The man _loved_ chocolate.

He mixed everything as well as he could, though the bowl was a touch on the small side and some of the mixture sloshed unpleasantly over the edges. “Damn it all,” Hermann grumbled, pushing his sleeves up. He would _not_ be defeated by a bit of mess.

When he decided he’d stirred it well enough, the mixture still looked rather lumpy, but that was probably fine. The bigger problem was, he discovered, the fact that the kitchen did not seem to have an appropriate container to bake the brownies in.

Hermann pursed his lips, shut his eyes tight, and exhaled slowly through his nose. He was not angry. He was not going to get angry at _baking_. After a few minutes of breathing in and out, in and out, he searched for something else, _anything_ else. The best potential container the cupboards yielded was a large glass bowl, much bigger than the plastic one he’d poured the mixture into. Well, glass was safe enough to use in an oven, surely. It was far from ideal, but it would work. It’d be quite like a cake, perhaps- a cake baked in a bowl, but it shouldn’t be much of a problem. In his experience, Newt would eat anything Hermann put in front of him with no complaint. He’d hardly turn down a bowl of brownies.

Well. What would eventually resemble brownies.

The box’s instructions did not account for how long to bake a rather deep bowl of brownies. Hermann did some hasty mathematics and decided thirty minutes at the preordained 350 degrees would be appropriate.

He was not really a man of prayer, but he sent up a quick _bitte, Gott,_ just in case.

As time went on, Hermann’s fears were not relieved, largely because of the smell the oven was making. It was not the smell of smoke, exactly, but it was rather unpleasant, and bore little similarity to the smell he was fairly certain baking chocolate was supposed to make. Still, he waited, his fingers drumming nervously on the head of his cane.

With scarcely a minute left on the timer, he froze when he heard, “Hermann? What are you doing?”

He turned to see Newton, clad in his boxers and a ratty t-shirt, adjusting his glasses as he squinted into the kitchen. “Hermann, are you baking? Why are you baking at...” Newt searched for a clock. “Two in the morning?”

“Nothing,” Hermann said. “I’m not. Go back to bed, Newton.”

The oven timer _dinged_ and Hermann stood stiffly. “Hermann, you are definitely baking. What the hell-” Newt beat him to the oven and opened the door slowly.

There was a long, long pause. Newt took an oven mitt from the counter and pulled the bowl out. They both examined it in silence.

It was quite clearly baked at the top and the bottom- the bottom significantly more so -but the entire middle was looking rather liquid, and not at all how brownies were meant to look. Hermann grimaced as Newt’s brow furrowed.

“Hermann, were you baking...cake?”

“Brownies,” he corrected. “They are- well. They were _meant_ to be brownies.”

Newt rubbed his eyes. “Hermann, why were you baking brownies at two AM?”

“For _you,_ idiot, why else?”

Newt’s expression changed from confusion to fondness. “Aw, _Hermann,_ ” he said, grinning like a fool. “You baked brownies for me?”

“Yes. Or, well. I tried, at any rate.”

He found himself wrapped up in a hug. “You big sweetheart,” Newt giggled. “Awww. You baked for me!”

Hermann rolled his eyes, but returned the embrace. “Not successfully, I’m afraid.”

“It’s the thought that counts, Hermann. Here-” Newt pulled away and began searching for spoons. “I’m sure it’s fine! It’s chocolate, I’m sure it’s still good!”

They both ate two large spoonfuls of the brownie concoction. They stood in silence.

Newt forced himself to swallow first. “Delicious,” he croaked. “Absolutely- totally delicious, man, best. Best ever.”

“Newton, _really_ -”

“So good,” Newt continued, picking up the bowl, “I don’t think anything else can quite live up to this. In fact, us mere mortals probably, probably shouldn’t be allowed more than one bite of this in our lifetimes. So I’m just gonna...” He dropped the entire bowl into the garbage can.

“...The kitchen staff will be quite annoyed to find a perfectly good bowl missing.”

“We’re doing them a favor, Hermann.” Newt wrapped an arm around Hermann’s. “Now. Take me to bed and let’s take a while to remember all the things you _can_ do that don’t involve baking.”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: LOOK AT THIS LOOK LOOK LOOK http://snewts.tumblr.com/post/61539987445 LOOK HOW GREAT I LOVE YOUUU


End file.
